Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 13 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Separation

Early morning, the day after the fight in the lava tree mold beneath the irminsul. Guy had returned alive but cursed; he and the Sword Roses were visiting the workshop of the provisional curse instructor, Zelma Warburg.

“…Hmm…” Zelma grunted.

She had Guy standing upright and was prodding him all over.

Watching with bated breath, Katie couldn’t stop herself from saying, “W-well, Instructor Zelma?”

“Anything to be done?” Oliver chimed in.

Finishing her exam, Zelma turned toward them.

“Long story short, not any time soon. The curse energy has acknowledged the host and attached itself. In that state, it might be infectious—but it won’t leave. If I’m to forcibly remove it, I’ll need a few months, minimum—and it could well take years.”

“……!”

That dire proclamation made Guy wince and his friends turn pale. Zelma shook her head; this was not as bad as it sounded.

“Naturally, if needed, I’ll do just that. But there’s little point in rushing things. Baldia will stop by long before I finish the procedure—unlike Vanessa, the Gnostic Hunters’ve gotta be careful how they use her, so she’s not exactly stuck on the front lines.”

“…Oh?” said Katie.

“You mean—,” Oliver began.

“She could yank this curse out in a second. She’s your mother in curses, and there ain’t a better host the world over. In other words, you’ll likely only be stuck with it for a couple of months. That make you feel any better, Mr. Greenwood?”

Guy let out a huge sigh of relief. Oliver felt the same; Zelma was Baldia’s substitute and clearly just as inclined to wind people up. She should very much have started with that information.

Katie was so relieved that she staggered, and Nanao caught her. Zelma watched with a twisted smile on her face before changing tacks.

“And there’s a more positive take on that waiting period—you have a choice here. What kind of magecraft will you pursue? This gives you time to think on that.”

“…Time to choose, huh?” said Guy.

“Yeah. And you know what I’m about talking about. That curse is thorny but could also be the gift of a lifetime. It’s a fact that you came back alive from Lombardi’s territory. The situation may have forced your hand—but that power is now your own.”

Strong words, and Guy’s gaze dropped to his hands. From the moment he’d taken on this curse, it had never felt borrowed. It had agreed with him far too well. Perhaps that was just proof of his aptitude for hosting it.

“Seems a waste to just let go of it. I’m not trying to back Baldia here, but I am a curse wrangler—and I say don’t be hasty. Think it over. The next few weeks will make the pros and cons of curse wrangling all too clear. It ain’t gonna hurt to make your decision in light of that experience, and I’ll spare no effort to help you control it. Out of respect for your natural talents.”

“B-but, Guy, a curse wrangler—?”

Katie’s emotions spilled out—and Chela wrapped her arms around the curly-haired girl, a hand over her mouth.

“You must not say that, Katie,” Chela urged, anguished. “It is not for us to decide what path Guy’s magecraft follows. That is something each of us must fret over for ourselves alone.”

“ !”

Katie took that admonishment to heart, hanging her head. No matter how close they were, this was an unwritten mage law, and it could not be ignored. And one that came right back at her—more than anyone else here, Katie had proven insistent on following her own magecraft no matter how much anyone tried to stop her.

“Of course, it’s not all sunshine and roses,” said Zelma. “Living with curses means you gotta be careful in every aspect of life. The closer you are to someone, the easier it is to transmit. If you learn to control it, that’s less of a concern—but practically speaking, you’re gonna have to distance yourself a while.”

Zelma was hammering that point home.

Weighing her words, Pete asked, “Then should we not share a workshop?”

“Better not, no. If you aren’t a wrangler, safer to limit yourselves to conversation on campus,” she told the group. “And to be very clear, don’t go assuming we can just take it back off you if it does transfer. The moment it’s hit you once, that’s a shared curse. The longer that goes on, the more likely the ‘host’ goes from individual to your whole crew—and then you’re all cursed.”

A leaden silence settled over the room. Everyone was forced to see just what living with a curse meant, just how hard being a wrangler was. Like they could see their friend’s shoulders diminishing in the distance. Without thinking about it, Oliver started to reach out his hand.

“…Guy—”

“Don’t, Oliver.”

That harsh voice made him freeze. As Oliver quivered, Guy took a step away, toward the curse instructor.

“Thanks for examining me, Instructor Zelma,” Guy said. “I’ll be heeding your advice and keeping my distance. Can I come to you with any problems?”

“Of course. Tonight, even. I’ll leave half my bed unoccupied.”

“Spare me those jokes. I got enough on my plate already.” He sighed and turned from her. Seeing the sea of grave expressions, he scratched his head. “Can’t exactly ask you not to worry,” he told his friends. “But we gotta roll with it. I’m gonna let this stew a while. Maybe it’s the opportunity I needed. I ain’t exactly prone to introspection.”

“N-no—”

Tears in her eyes, Katie took a step forward—and Nanao and Chela each put an arm around her.

“I know exactly how you feel, but you must control yourself, Katie.”

“Indeed. Clinging to him now will only make this harder for Guy.”

That made Katie stop, but her eyes were still pleading with him. Begging him not to go anywhere, her gaze filled with turbulent emotion. That resonated. Guy barely suppressed the instinct to reach out to her and was forced to tear his eyes away. He looked to the face of another friend.

“It’s not like we’ll be apart forever. Just a temporary separation,” Pete said. “I’m not upset. Fix that curse and come on back.”

“Ha-ha, appreciate it, Pete.”

Guy very much meant that. If anyone else tried to pin him down, he wasn’t certain he could hold out. So he ended this quick. He couldn’t bear to look at Katie again, instead settling for waving over his shoulder at Nanao and Chela. Then he turned to the last of his friends.

“My bad, Oliver. Look after Katie for me.”

“…You got it.”

With no other choice, Oliver nodded. Guy stepped closer, standing almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Take it all on,” he growled. “You can’t afford to hold back here.”

“ ”

That took Oliver’s breath away, but Guy was already past him and out the door.

Oliver was scared to even consider what that last phrase meant.

With Guy gone, the others left Zelma’s workshop, wandering the halls in silence that was occasionally broken by Katie’s sobs. Nanao did not once let go of her. Oliver stayed quietly close at hand. Ahead of them, Pete and Chela were whispering to each other.

“…He was taking it in stride.”

“Yes…he likely saw this coming the moment he took the curse on.”

Both of them had the same impression. Looking back, they were downright impressed by how little Guy had let himself waver. Yet, both knew he was struggling. Not just because Zelma had praised his wrangling skills—that alone, he’d merely have shaken off. Something else was making it hard for him to choose.

“…Ngh…”

To Oliver, the words Guy had spoken in that lava tree mold were key.

“…Fantastic,” he’d said. “I can finally fight alongside you guys.”

Even though Guy was harboring curse energy that would likely be taken from him in due time, he was thrilled to have it. There were three years of frustrations behind those words he’d spoken, and that scared Oliver more than anything.

“Avoiding infecting us is obviously important, but more than that, I feel Guy needs time to think,” Chela said. “He’s a mage at a turning point in his life—it’s only natural. All we can do is give him space and watch over him.”

She made her stance clear, and Katie nodded. The curly-haired girl said nothing but looked ready to burst into tears again.

Nanao hugged her tight. “Head high, Katie. I am by your side.”

Pete turned back and joined the embrace. “You can’t snivel forever! Throw yourself into classes, and two months will fly by.”

“…Mm. Sorry, everybody.”

Katie absorbed her friends’ words of comfort and encouragement as she tried to recover her composure, but everyone knew that was no easy task. Guy had been her biggest pillar of support, and even a temporary loss would hurt—plus, there’d been signs this might not be temporary.

Oliver, at least, had to remain calm. Telling himself that, he took a deep breath…and saw a witch standing down the hall. A seventh-year student, hair over one eye—an old friend to the Sword Roses, waiting for them.

“You all look gloomy,” she said. “I take it Zelma couldn’t remove Guy’s curse?”

“…Ms. Miligan…”

Katie gently extracted herself from the group hug, wiped her tears, and turned to face the Snake-Eyed Witch.

“I’m afraid not,” Chela said, folding her arms in concern. “If Instructor Baldia returns, she can easily manage it, but before then—no such luck. And worse, Instructor Zelma is extremely impressed with Guy’s aptitude for wrangling. Given that Instructor Baldia gave him the cursed seed…”

“I thought as much. Guy will have much to worry his head about. Still, no reason to fret about it. Every student with multiple talents goes through this once.” Miligan hunched down, putting herself on Katie’s eye level and smiling. “There is a solution to the curse itself, yes? Then watch over him, without undue concern. If I may be so bold, no matter what path he picks, it will not lead him away from his friends. Even I can be sure of that.”

The Snake-Eyed Witch’s gentle tone surprised not only Katie, but Oliver, too. He and Katie knew each other well, but this was exactly the sort of thing Miligan would not have understood when they first met. She’d had no clue why Marco had opened up to Katie and thought the only way she’d find an answer would be to open Katie’s head and examine her brain. The truth had been all too obvious to Katie’s friends, but this witch, deep into her magecraft, had been unable to make heads or tails of it.

Now, however, Miligan got it. She knew what Guy was going through, what choices he would never make—and she could use that to support her words of comfort. To Oliver, this was a marked change. Perhaps Katie had changed her. Once, Katie had sworn to paint this school her color, and three years of hard work may have paid off there.

“I’ll add that you’re not far from Guy’s dilemma yourselves,” said Miligan. “You’re fourth-years—it’s high time you firmed up your majors. Katie and Pete seem to have a clear direction, but what of the rest of you? Research seminars will be recruiting soon. You can’t keep dillydallying.”

That warning pulled Oliver out of his reverie.

True, no matter how worried they were, they could not dwell on Guy. Seminar slots were limited, and the deadlines could be harsh. The slower you were to act, the less likely you were to end up where you wanted to be.

Everyone gave Miligan looks of respect and gratitude, and Chela spoke for them all.

“Right you are. The reminder is appreciated, Ms. Miligan.”

The witch smiled back. Then Oliver remembered another concern and gingerly voiced it.

“…Um, is your debt…?”

“Cease asking me that each time we meet! I am steadily paying it off—think no more on it!”

She pursed her lips at him and stalked away. Oliver took that to mean he really need not worry. Perhaps soon, they would no longer see her hovering outside the school store with a look of longing on her face.

“Well?” Chela asked, swinging around. “Should we all make like Guy and give some thought to our futures? Perhaps consult with others from our year?”

“Yeah, good idea,” Oliver agreed. “Katie, Pete, have you picked a specific seminar yet?”

He looked around. Katie sniffed and nodded, and Pete shrugged.

“I’ve got a few candidates in mind,” he said. “Was planning on running them by you soon.”

“Hrm, I have not spared it a single thought,” Nanao grumbled, tilting her head and crossing her arms.

Katie slapped herself on the cheeks. “Yeah, I’d better get on that. If I get stuck on this, I’ll just make things worse for Guy…”

Muttering to herself, she set out. Seeing how obviously unsteady she was, her friends immediately gave chase. She hadn’t even mustered false cheer; there was little else they could do for her other than be by her side.

Meanwhile, after leaving his friends, Guy found himself in a position he’d gone his whole life without experiencing.

“…It’s so quiet when you’re alone. Though, I have got this curse kicking up a racket inside…”

He was muttering to himself on the way down the hall. It was the nature of curse energy to want to infect things—that could be strengthened or weakened, but it never went away. If the urge to do harm overwhelmed the wrangler’s capacity, measures would have to be taken; although at the moment, that risk was small. It felt like a low, animalistic growl inside him, but the fact that he could keep it at that level spoke to his exceptional talent.

“…This ain’t good. This is the price I pay for all that time spent looking after Katie? Can’t get my brain to budge one bit when it’s my own shit. And I ain’t exactly got anyone I can talk to…”

It wasn’t the curse that had him clutching his head. For better or worse, he went with his gut, preferring to throw himself into things, figure stuff out in conversation. Now he was forced into the exact opposite approach—no specific tasks to apply himself to, no one who could help him talk it out. He’d have to think, and that was not his strong suit.

As he racked his brain, he saw a familiar face coming his way. The moment their eyes met, he threw up a hand—without really thinking it through.

“Mm, yo, Mackley. Back up and running?”

“…”

She ignored this point-blank, sailing past. Guy turned around, calling after her.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Mackley?”

Still, she failed to respond. If anything, she sped up.

Guy put a hand to his chin, thinking.

“……Hey, Annie,” he tried.

The ground practically detonated beneath her feet. Her white wand came out as she lunged, poking it hard against his throat, her voice a low growl.

“Call me that again, and you die.”

“Gotcha. It was just a joke, so put the wand away. Before you catch this curse.”

He put both hands up, and Mackley took a step back, still fuming. She waffled a moment, then withdrew her wand, folding her arms.

“What do you want?” she asked, like she was suddenly obligated to engage. “I assume you’re not dumb enough to think we’re friends now. Just because we went through some shit…”

“Hell yeah! I know we’re friends. It’d be harder to act like strangers after all that. Or are you an old hand at those games?”

Before Mackley could retort, a new voice chimed in.

“Are we included in that?”

She and Guy both turned to find two others from their year—one male, one female.

Guy raised a hand, smiling. “What up, Barthés? Nice to see you both on your feet.”

“Thankfully, yes. You really pulled us out of the fire this time. Allow me to formally thank you, Greenwood. Mackley, that includes you.”

Lélia Barthé’s voice was warm, but this provoked a frown from Mackley.

“Don’t lump me in with his dumb ass. I didn’t lift a finger for you. Barely bothered letting you tag along in case I needed a decoy.”

“I think that moment came and went. Like the deer,” Gui muttered.

“Oh, you wanna throw down? ’Cause I’m ready!” Mackley yelled, hand on her wand again, brow twitching.

“Relax,” Lélia said, palms out. “Whatever your perception of it, we both feel like we owe you a lot. And failing to repay that debt will besmirch the name of our mistress, Lady Ursule. That much, I’m sure you understand. So if either of you are in trouble, just say the word. Lélia and Gui Barthé will do whatever is in our power to help.”

Guy grinned at the pair of twins, who were clearly in much higher spirits than at any point in their labyrinth adventure. Not a connection he’d expected to make, but hardly one to snub.

“Ha-ha, thanks. I’m in trouble all the time, so good to know,” he said.

He moved a hand as if to shake, realized he currently couldn’t do that, and yanked it back. That alone seemed to be all Gui needed.

“Seems like you’re in a bit of a pickle right now. Can’t get that curse out any time soon?” Gui asked.

“…Basically. Which means I’m waiting for Instructor Baldia to pop in. And they’re telling me if I’m up for being a wrangler, I shouldn’t give it back at all.”

“Ah, a curse instructor would say that.” Lélia nodded. “Even without much expertise, I could tell that you pulled off quite a feat. There’s any number of wranglers in our year, but safe to say you’re head and shoulders above them.”

At this point, more students passed by—and paused when they saw Guy.

“’Sup, Evil Tree?” said one.

“Congrats on surviving!” added another.

“…Uh?”

“How’s it feel being a sixth-year’s Final Visitor? Like turning over a new leaf?”

Guy just frowned, baffled by the mix of curiosity and respect—and worse, the name they’d called him.

“…Wait, I got lots of questions, but first—why’re you calling me that shit?”

“It’s your epithet.”

“It happens sometimes. You become someone’s Final Visitor, you inherent their name.”

“Especially if you’re studying the same field. Mr. Lombardi was all about curses transmitted through plants, and so are you. Why wouldn’t you be the second-generation Evil Tree?”

“That ain’t me at all! Who the hell started this?!”

“Who knows?”

“No clue, but it’s everywhere.”

Shrugging off his protests, the students moved on, leaving Guy sulking.

“…What a headache! Like they’re conspiring against me!”

“Don’t scowl. It sounds ominous, but it’s mostly complimentary.”

“Yeah. Even the older students respect you now. Don’t read too deep—just own it.”

The Barthés were putting a positive spin on it, which Guy wanted to protest, but practically speaking, he’d probably have to take their advice. He couldn’t exactly go around grabbing everyone by their lapels and demanding they call him something else.

That interruption had stalled their chat, so Mackley turned on her heel.

“…We’re done? Then I’m going,” she said.

“W-wait, Mackley!” Lélia cried, grabbing her collar with a smile. When Mackley made a strangled noise, Lélia leaned in, whispering in her ear. “You know Guy’s at his wit’s end, right?”

“…So what?”

“You need it spelled out? Okay, let’s try an analogy. You were about to get hit by a stampeding swordrhino. Someone jumped in front of you and got run over. They’re in critical condition, and you’re unharmed. What should you do?”

The sarcasm-laden metaphor made Mackley grind her teeth. She was big on not letting debts stand and couldn’t exactly brush this off.

“I ain’t injured, and I don’t need nursing,” Guy said with a laugh. “But this turn of events means I can’t be around my usual crowd, and on my own—I guess the wheels in my brain ain’t exactly spinning. I don’t handle quiet well.”

He felt he could turn to these three instead. Scratching his head, he laid out his predicament. They’d only just gotten to know one another, so the tenuous nature of their relationship was a comfort. Where the Sword Roses might easily catch the curse, this crowd was unlikely to.

Picking up on that, Gui nodded, smiling. “So you need someone to bounce ideas off? No problem at all.”

“Give it up, Mackley,” said Lélia. “I’ve been wanting to have a proper chat with you anyway.”

“Can’t say the same! Leave me out of this! You’re trying to weave a web around me till I can’t rid myself of you!”

“Ha-ha-ha! Not entirely wrong, but it’s more a hex than a web, really.”

Her prey snared, Lélia started dragging Mackley away. A torrent of foul language spewed from Mackley’s lips, but laughter drowned it out. As the volume rose, Guy thought, Yeah, that’s more like it. He and Gui followed the girls.

“Mm? So Guy ’as to keep ’is distance? Alas, ’e will be missed,” Rossi said, leaning his elbows over the back of a chair.

When the Sword Roses reached the lounge, they’d found Team Andrews already there and got to talking; they’d only just finished filling them in on Guy’s situation.

“If you need merry made, turn to me,” Rossi added. “My arms are long enough for everyone, yes?”

With a grin, Rossi spread his arms out, demonstrating. Naturally, all five students ignored his offer, looking past him.

“Andrews, Albright, you were a great help in the lava tree mold,” said Oliver.

“Mm! A splendid performance!” Nanao agreed.

“We merely pitched in a bit at the end,” said Andrews. “You got to the trunk faster than us, and Mr. Greenwood’s safe return is primarily to his own credit.”

“Proving his aptitude for wrangling at a critical juncture… Talk about cocky,” Albright grumbled.

“Try ’arder, would you? It will take more than that to dissuade me!”

Rossi was rocking his chair back and forth, kicking up a fuss. Deciding he’d been a bit too hostile, Oliver made a face and turned toward the Ytallian.

“…We’re kidding, Rossi. Naturally, we’re grateful to you, too. We were just deeply appalled by your tactless offer.”

“Forgive us, Mr. Rossi,” said Chela. “I feel exactly the same. I merely wanted to assert that even if there were a hundred of you, you all would not equal Guy’s little toe.”

“A pair of charming smiles, yet you ’url spiteful remarks! Do not make me start liking that!”

Rossi clutched his shoulders, shivering. Blocking that display from his peripheral, Albright got back to the point.

“Either way, you decided to follow Greenwood’s lead and figure yourselves out? I’ll lend an ear, but I can’t offer much advice. My path is the Gnostic hunts—always has been.”

“And I’m saying you needn’t be that committed to it, Albright. In my eyes, you have a knack for teaching. A future where you’ve built on that foundation is entirely viable.”

“Teach where? At what school? A house with no name is one thing, but I’m heir to the Albrights. I’d argue that’s a path you should consider yourself. Sounds like you’re fitting right in on the council.”

Albright and Richard started arguing the point. Chela wiped a tear, touched that Richard would be so concerned about his friend’s potential. Rossi, meanwhile, was just watching this play out with a smirk—when all eyes started gathering on him, he looked startled.

“Oh, me? I ’ave not spared a thought to it. My life is like a walk upon the clouds.”

“…How like your fighting style.” Chela sighed. “A classic example of someone who needs his feet on the ground.”

“See, Nanao? We can’t end up like him,” said Katie.

“I am not a mirror to your own flaws! I ’ave good reason for my lack of plans—I swore I would defeat Oliver before I settled upon anything!”

“How many years are you planning on attending Kimberly, Rossi? That’s a thorny path to follow.”

“Ah! Ahh! Pete, your tongue ’as grown so ’arsh!”

Ignoring Rossi’s passionate gasps, they turned their focus back to the raging debate. When he caught their looks, Richard broke off, clearing his throat.

“Pardon me. Fact is, those with multiple aptitudes always face a tough decision. Chela, Oliver, none more so than you. Meanwhile, those who have a single standout aptitude need merely pursue it to its fullest. Not to deliver the most stock advice possible, but it’s true.”

“Hmm, then in my case…,” Nanao mused.

“Sword arts or brooms,” said Chela. “Major in either, and Instructors Garland and Hedges will be waiting with open arms.”

“It’s very much worth attempting to attach yourself to one or the other. They both take picking apprentices seriously, but that makes it all the more worthwhile. And with you, Ms. Hibiya, it’s absolutely in the cards,” Richard assured her.

He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, but his bashful act failed to disguise the reverence behind his words. Oliver and Chela found that delightful and struggled to conceal it.

Albright nodded in agreement. “Aalto, Reston, the same approach should swiftly narrow your options. The opposite applies to you, McFarlane—but in your case, you’re more likely to be bound by your house than your talent. Perhaps even more than I am.”

“…I wouldn’t compare us. But if I’m honest, I have my share of binds. I am not entirely at my father’s command, yet…”

“…You’ll have to tell us more about that someday. I know it’s not easily shared…,” Katie said, tugging at her sleeve. Chela immediately gave her an appreciative hug.

Albright shifted his focus away. “You’re the one I’m most intrigued by, Oliver. Obviously, I’m well past dismissing you as a jack-of-all-trades. But acknowledging your abilities does not tell me where you’re headed.”

“ ”

Oliver just stood there, lacking any immediate answer. Realistically, he could not imagine a future the way his friends could; he simply did not have that much time left. A fact he’d long since accepted—or so he thought, but now that turmoil came boiling back up. Trying to trample it down, he managed an awkward smile.

“Hate to disappoint, but honestly, I haven’t even thought about it. Ever since I reached Kimberly, I’ve been too focused on the problems at hand. Never had a moment to look ahead.”

“Aha! Much like myself!” Nanao crowed.

“Same—!”

“Hardly.”

Rossi tried to jump in, and Pete cut him down.

A pleasant scene that cut Oliver to the quick. How sweet it would be if he had as much time as they did.

Albright closed his eyes, snorting. Oliver had expected a torrent of insults, but none seemed imminent.

“Hmph. Afraid I saw that coming,” said Albright. “Take a moment to pull yourself out of other people’s problems and deal with your own mess. Do not give me that same answer the next time we meet.”

Some harsh words, but mostly sound advice. Oliver appreciated it, but today, everyone was being so nice, and that was just making it worse. Was the impact of Guy’s withdrawal showing on his face? If so, he really had to get it together. He was in no position to go around revealing his weaknesses.

At this point, Richard took a step toward him. Interpreting Oliver’s struggles to control himself as fretting about his future, Richard lent a helping hand.

“Consult with me whenever you like,” he said. “If you want a lengthy chat somewhere out of the public eye, I know a good place in Galatea. Should I see if I can wedge in a reservation for a private room this weekend?”

“Uh, thanks, Richard. I may…ask for that at some point, but not just yet. I want to give this a good think on my own first.”

This generosity was too much for him, and Oliver threw up both hands, smiling. Realizing he was perhaps being overbearing, Richard backed off. Chela put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“It’s not just Rick—many people here are eager to offer help. No need to rush things. The connections you’ve made are more valuable than anything.”

Her warm words provoked a whole litany of emotions, but Oliver merely nodded.

With that topic settled, Albright looked at each face in turn.

“…One last word of advice,” he said. “Not to any one of you, but the whole group—Greenwood included.”

That sounded significant, so everyone straightened up.

“Don’t get reckless,” Albright growled. “Everything we’ve discussed is founded on the assumption that you will live to graduate without being consumed by the spell.”

“……Yeah, point taken,” Oliver managed.

Five heads nodded. The best advice they could receive—but to Oliver’s ears, the irony of it was all too clear.

With that discussion over, they headed to the bulletin boards to see what specific options were available. When Katie saw the recruitment posters listing each research seminar’s strengths, she groaned.

“So many choices… Even if I narrow it down to just magical creatures, there’s still so much to consider.”

“Not only the seminar’s theme, but the faculty adviser, and the older students you’ll be sharing a space with. Katie, why don’t you simply follow Ms. Miligan’s lead?” Chela asked.

“I’ve certainly considered it. But she’s graduating this year… I’m taking over her research on demis on a personal basis anyway. I’d like to join somewhere that’ll let me put that experience to good use.”

“Hrm…a single glance at this makes my eyes spin,” Nanao grumbled.

“Hiiiibiiiiyaaaa!” came an anguished voice behind her.

Everyone spun around to find their broom instructor grinning from ear to ear and managing to make that menacing.

“Oh, well met, Sir Dustin!” said Nanao.

“Yes, yes, that’s me, all right! Hate to barge in on your peaceful comradery, but first, I must ask—if you’re inspecting this board, you must be looking for a seminar, yes?”

“That is the general idea,” Nanao replied, nodding.

Dustin clapped a hand to his face, his smile fading. He turned to look up at the rafters. “Why have you not come to me?! I’ve been waiting for you since the year began!”

“O-oh?”

“How many times did I tell you? ‘In your fourth year, come check out the aerial battle seminar I run!’ This makes no sense! Tell me you didn’t forget? Do you even know how rare it is I actively recruit?!”

His voice shook. Reaching the obvious conclusion, Oliver and Chela each leaned in, whispering in Nanao’s ears.

“…Go with him, Nanao. It’s your choice whether to join, but you shouldn’t spurn a teacher’s invite.”

“Yes, see the look on his face? He’s beyond anger—those are tears in his eyes.”

“Mm. Point taken!”

Finally recognizing the urgency of the matter, Nanao sprang into action, bobbing her head as Dustin escorted her away.

Pete snorted, watching her go. “Guess she’s a lock on that one.”

“I imagine she’ll get a few serenades from the sword arts seminars, too… It’s only a matter of time,” Oliver said with a nod.

But as they watched their friend go, someone else came up from behind.

“Pardon me. Do you have a moment—especially you, Ms. Aalto?”

All turned around to find a sixth-year male wearing glasses. Oliver alone recognized him—not from school, but from the labyrinth. This was a comrade.

Faced with an unknown upperclassman, Katie, Chela, and Pete braced themselves. This was no overreaction, but a necessity of Kimberly life. The sixth-year smiled and put his hands up.

“No need for that,” he said. “I am recruiting her, but today is no more than an introduction. That said, there are not many tír seminars, even at Kimberly.”

“ !”

That word got Katie’s attention. And her reaction encouraged him.

“I believe your interest and aptitudes would best be served with us. I’ll brief the other members—feel free to stop by anytime you like. I’m sure you’ll gain something from it.”

With that short speech, he handed her a pamphlet and withdrew far easier than anyone anticipated.

Eyes on the paper in her hands, Katie said, “This was on my short list. Studying the gnosticized versions as an extension of demi biology and culture.”

“And they came to you first? So you do have an interest in tírs, Katie?” Chela asked.

“…Yeah. Since that migration—but also, the more I study demis, the more I know I can’t avoid the subject. Both with Gnostics and tírs, the magical world is sorely lacking in attempts to understand. It’s not like I don’t get the logic behind Instructor Demitrio’s arguments against that, but…”

Katie had clearly been wrestling with that contradiction. Oliver peered at the pamphlet over her shoulder.

“I’m interested in that myself,” he said after a brief hesitation. “Wanna scope it out together, Katie?”

“Huh? Oliver? Er, I mean, I’d appreciate the company…”

She had clearly not been anticipating this offer, and it rattled her. Pete and Chela exchanged glances—and that said everything.

“Nanao’s already gone,” Pete told the group. “Let’s split up. I wanna check out a few candidates myself.”

Katie looked surprised, but this was the right choice. No point in visiting a seminar far from your own field. Only those with a chance of joining had a right to visit—and that meant Pete would have to strike out on his own.

“Good idea,” Chela said, backing him up. “I’ll accompany Pete on his rounds.”

“Yeah? Fine, but don’t grumble if it bores you.”

He hadn’t expected that. Nonetheless, he shrugged and let her follow him.

Once Pete and Chela were gone, Oliver glanced at Katie.

“Shall we, Katie? He just extended the invitation, but I’m sure he won’t mind an immediate visit.”

“Um—sure…!”

She nodded and set off. Oliver joining her was nice and comforting—and also embarrassing. She was wrestling with the choice of seminars enough as it was without having a second source of consternation tagging along.

They reached the third-floor room listed on the pamphlet and found the upperclassman from earlier alone with his nose in a book. He was hardly the only seminar member—safe to assume this was not a prime gathering time.

“Oh, here already?” he said, breaking into a grin. “Lovely! Do sit down.”

He got up and waved them to some chairs; they thanked him and took their seats. Meanwhile, he moved over the shelves on the wall and brought back a heap of binders.

“…These are…?” said Katie.

“Figured our research would be the best way to say hi. It’s all on tír creature biology and communication attempts. Not a genre you’d find in the library, right?”

Katie blinked at him for a second, and then she dove right into the pile of documents. In no time, she was hyperfocused.

“You’ve got lots of data, then,” Oliver noted—speaking not as a comrade, but as a fellow student. “I thought research like this was unofficially off-limits even at Kimberly.”

“They act like it is for appearances, but I feel like it’s actually the other way around. Otherwise, would they ever have given the go-ahead for Morgan’s attempt? Our headmistress would never publicly endorse Gnostic research, but under the table, she’s actively encouraging it. That’s my impression, at least.”

The upperclassman delivered this with an impish grin, filling Oliver’s head with questions. If his comrade felt certain enough to make this claim, it was likely Kimberly’s actual stance—but the Esmeralda, pro–tír research? That made no sense. Anyone as high up in the magical world as her would be pressured to match the Gnostic Hunters’ opposition to it.

“That said, there are very few active projects going. Just obtaining a gnosticized sample or a tír creature means going through a hellish process. Still…Kimberly is definitely at the forefront of tír research. I think this place will get you closest to what you want to do, Ms. Aalto.”

That gentle reminder made her pull away from the documents in front of her, and she snapped the file shut, straightening up.

“I’m sure you’re aware, but last year, I made contact with a Uranischegar migration,” she said. “I can’t say I made proper observations—it was only for a moment.”

“I know all about it. That experience led your decision to visit us?”

“…Basically. The connection we made—if that’s the word for it—gave me a sense of the mind behind the migration. Or maybe it was more emotional? Its heart? The distance between us was vast, but I sensed common ground. Like we aren’t fundamentally incompatible.”

Katie’s attempts to describe her experience made Oliver gulp. She’d said as much before, and he’d had no clue what to make of it.

“Fascinating,” the upperclassman said, chin in hand. “You heard the voice of their god? And whatever the truth may be, that was your emotional response to it.”

“…Yeah. Purely subjective, no real evidence I was right.”

“That’s fine. In the absence of other clues, mages proceed according to their instincts. So…what is it you want to do? In light of this unusual experience?”

Rather than debate the details of what she’d gone through, he prodded her intent. Katie’s head went down; she picked her words carefully.

“At this point, I basically know nothing about Gnostics, tírs, or their gods. Yet, despite that ignorance, I’m told I must unilaterally treat them as my enemies. This feels wrong to me. Like I’m wearing clothes where the buttons are misaligned,” she explained. “So my first step is to resolve that. No matter where it takes me, I have to begin by learning. I really haven’t thought about what lies past that.”

The upperclassman took all that in stride, arms folded. “So you’re at that phase. Kind of a relief! If you’ll forgive me for it, I was worried you were overeager and getting ahead of yourself. Common in students on the verge of being consumed by the spell,” he said. “However, from what you’ve said, you’re still in control. Demonstrating a desire to remain on this side of that line. This is a very risky field, so that desire can make all the difference. I’m not saying I’m without concerns—but looking out for those is what your senior fellows are for.”

He spoke with a pleasant smile, and Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was this simple benevolence? Lip service to a seminar candidate? Or a performance as a comrade? This man might serve Oliver, but that didn’t mean Oliver could read his mind. Perhaps sensing that, the sixth-year turned to him.

“She’s made herself clear. Mr. Horn, are your interests aligned?”

That made Oliver reset. He couldn’t have Katie do all the talking. He was supposed to be interested in this subject—and that was, at least, partially true.

“More or less,” he replied. “Most specifically, I’d like to research ways to reduce Gnostic incidents. Not by fighting and eliminating them but by tackling the root cause—preventing gnosticization in the first place.”

He’d prepared that answer ahead of time, and Katie gave him an astonished look. He had not been able to bring this up in front of Richard, so this was the first she’d heard of his position.

“Then much of your work should overlap with Ms. Aalto’s,” the upperclassman said, smiling. “Neither are exactly typical Kimberly ideals. If you’re that aligned, I see why you’re together… Yes, you’re a good match. I can tell you’re on the same page deep down, and that should lead to good synergy in the future. I’d love to have you both join us—talking to you has only made me sure of it.”

The upperclassman kept his tone pleasant but made his point clear. If they chose to join the seminar, they’d be welcomed—both took this as a promise. Now they merely needed to make up their own minds.

“I won’t pressure you to make a decision now. I’m sure you have other places to check out. Stop by all you like over the next month or two and weigh your options. No need to limit yourself when you’re not committed.”

Both Katie and Oliver appreciated this lack of pressure. For a while, they read up on tír creatures, then thanked the upperclassman and left the seminar room.

In the hall afterward, neither spoke right away. How should she respond to what she saw? Katie wanted to sort it out internally first.

“…He seems nice,” she said at last. “Other recruiters have been way more aggressive. This guy listened to what I had to say first.”

“Yeah. Felt like his priority was figuring out where we were at. I think you made yourself clear.”

This was his honest opinion, but Katie drew up short. Oliver paused, turning toward her—and she gave him a long look, then took a deep breath.

“If I chose that seminar…would you really join me?”

“Yeah. But if you don’t, there’s no chance of me going there solo. In that case, I’d rather come with you to inspect other places.”

Oliver didn’t hesitate to answer, and Katie had to stop herself from pouncing on it. She slowly put her next question on her tongue—the point she really couldn’t let remain unclear.

“…Because I’m at risk? You’re scared to let me be alone? Are you saying this to protect me?”

Her voice was intentionally forceful. Implying—though this was not the case—that she resented that implication. A pathetic performance, she thought. Given how much she’d relied on Oliver thus far, she really didn’t want to act like this. But it had to be said. Depending on his motivation, this was a moment she might have to push him away no matter the consequences.

Oliver managed a forlorn smile. That alone took her breath away. She was struck with guilt that threatened to wring her heart.

“If I’m honest, that is part of it,” Oliver said quietly. “But more than that, I want to work with you on the issues involving demis and Gnostics. You have perspectives and responses I lack. I’ve always admired that about you, and I’m looking forward to seeing what they produce. This isn’t a new thing for me. I’ve thought as much since our very first year.”

It came out so readily, it stung. He wasn’t trying to put up a front—this was his heart’s desire. She got that without having to ask again. There was no space for doubt. The bond between them was strong enough for her to know.

All words of rejection dissipated within her. In their place: a wave of sweet emotion rising from the soles of her feet, filling her body. Uh-oh, Katie thought. The edge of her vision spotted a place of refuge, and she leaped at it.

“…G-gonna hit the bathroom! Regroup at the lounge? Go on ahead!”

“Sure thing.”

Oliver nodded with a smile, and she tore her eyes away, diving into the bathroom. She ran to the far stall and locked the door. No one could see her now. The moment she was sure of that, she put both hands on the door.

“……Ohhhhh……”

A wordless moan escaped her. And with it, a fountain of tears, dripping on the floor. Not out of grief—quite the opposite. From the tips of her toes to the tips of her fingers, bliss painted over every thought.

“…What is wrong with me…? Why does that make me so happy that I have to cry?” she rasped.

Of course it made her happy. Oliver had been the first person at Kimberly to empathize with her perspective. All this time, he’d looked after her, supported her, given her the push she needed—been her friend and her benefactor. Friendship and admiration and desire, every variety and shade, growing ever stronger. All had long since hit a threshold so high, there was no use even attempting to distinguish them. She felt every type of love for Oliver and had kept it all bottled up. To avoid taking him from a treasured friend. To avoid dragging him off to her spell.

“…Why am I like this? I know…he’s already with Nanao. That was my last chance to push him away.”

Her heart sank. She shouldn’t have stopped to verify. She should have insisted she had to join the seminar alone, concocted some bullshit about a need for independence. She’d known that. But she’d been unable to breathe a word to that effect. Doing so would make Oliver distance himself. The boy who wanted to join her research would no longer be at her side.

And that wasn’t an option. Not a choice she could make. She might have managed it before she knew his intentions—but not now that he was in her hands. A sweet, warm right she could no longer let slip through her fingers.

“…Come back to us, Guy. You’re…gonna break my heart otherwise…”

Katie sobbed again, calling their distanced friend’s name. Joy and guilt in equal measure, churning within, no strings for her to grab, no hopes of unraveling the knot. Alone in a dark stall, she cried.